Shades of Grey
by Vera Lim
Summary: Harry recieves letters from no one: "You know, I reckon Malfoy is OK now. We're civil to each other, unlike him and Ron. Last night, was an Order meeting. Thanks to Ginny, we've found out a little more.." Confused and lost, Harry replies...RR
1. The Road to Nowhere

**The Road to Nowhere**

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and all related items, tangible or not, belong to J.K Rowling and Warner Bros. (bless their souls). I am merely borrowing these characters and situations. I'm not writing to infringe upon J.K Rowling's work.

* * *

A lucid dream is like an empty stomach. There is a terrible longing sense for something that you can't put a finger on. You run towards a horizon that seems to distance itself the more that you run towards it. It's an awful, hollow feeling and a sense of loss. And at the same time, the pain or that sense of absence makes its presence felt so that, in fact, there _is_ an emotion since absence fills the void.

If you asked Harry, that's what he would've said. But perhaps, it's only normal that it made complete sense to him.

Some of his lucid dreams were wonderful. He would be flying on objects; in cars, on motorbikes, on broomsticks even. The wind rushing through his hair would seem so surreal, that it was almost real. There! Another strange paradox he had come up with! He was just full of those these days.

He glanced up at his ceiling only vaguely paying attention to purple spot that bedecked a small corner of it. What had he been dreaming about? Harry strained himself to grasp the details of what had only been so clear to him a minute before.

"Harry! Hurry up, or you'll be late for school!"

He sighed. Well, perhaps a cold shower would wake him up and he would be able to relive his dream. Or maybe a good breakfast would do the trick.

Without bothering to make his bed, he padded across his bedroom to his ensuite. When he first awoke here, Harry remembered marveling at the size of the room. And the house as well. It was so strange to know that he had his own Jacuzzi. What sixteen-year-old could boast of that? Yep, living in Perthshire definitely had its plus points. But then again, it had it's downfalls as well. Like, for instance, the whole neighbourhood was so stuffy and immaculate that, at times, Harry felt claustrophobic and while walking home, felt as though he was dreading returning. Though that was one of the many feelings he couldn't put a finger on. _Why?_ Why did he feel that way?

The moment sharp trickles of water hit his bare back, Harry jerked awake and for an instant, his blurry vision became focused only to have it return to being blurry again. _Damn I need contacts._ He turned around and faced the cold spray of his shower running his hands through his hair. What _was_ he dreaming about?

All he remembered was a bird. And it was such a strange bird. At first, he couldn't make out what it was; it was merely a flurry of all the shades of red. And then, not quite so anymore. Harry sighed in frustration as he lathered his body. There was a strange mark on his right shoulder, like he'd been walloped across his neck and, in turn, his shoulder. Somehow, feeling that gash always perked up his curiosity; he could sit for hours and run his finger along it. Just another bruise of his mistaken past. His hidden past.

Stepping in the path of the rushing cold water again, Harry let the soapy goodness run off his body. Alas, if only the remnants of his dream wouldn't seep away like the soap was doing now. Maybe taking a shower hadn't been such a good idea……

Forgoing all attempts at regaining any memory of his dream, he turned the tap off and stepped out and into a fluffy red towel. He glanced at himself in the mirror. There was a strange amulet of sorts around his neck. It was a black-ish metal dragon with one emerald stone set in for the eye. Its black, thick string provided for a nice contrast to his otherwise pale skin. Subconsciously, he fingered it. It had become his nervous habit and, before he knew it, the amulet had become his comfort object. His hand would always automatically flee to it. Harry somehow knew that this amulet was special, that it had been given to him by someone important. But who?

Another part of his unanswered past that had left him as easily as that _stupid_ dream!

Harry padded down to breakfast in a pair of khaki cargos and a green sleeveless top. He decided to show the amulet this time. It matched so well and, considering he had an affinity for it, it would be so much easier to reach it anyway. As he poured himself some milk, his mother entered the kitchen.

Guinevere Potter was a striking woman, what with her sparkling blue eyes in perfect juxtaposition to her golden blonde hair that seemed to shine of its own accord. Her long thin nose did wonders for her otherwise slightly square face. She was beautiful. And she was also frowning her disapproval at an oblivious Harry.

"Harry. What _is_ that?"

Harry looked up at his mother. It was scary how much her mood could be displayed on her face; her anger, her happiness, her disapproval. It was as though she had been _born_ for the profession of a lawyer; she could be quite severe and, when she had that look on her face, successfully managed to set his mind in a rat's race of sorts, trying to figure out what he'd done wrong, making him feel guilty over something he couldn't even remember doing. There was another person who had made him feel that……..but who?

Right now, however, his mind had once again set out on its rapid journey of retracing his steps. He knew she was somewhat of a neat-freak but he'd done everything. And besides, he'd only been awake a few hours! And¯ oh bloody hell! Wait. He forgot to make his bed. _Great.__ Just what I need so early in the morning._

"Where did you get that horrendous thing around your neck?" she asked setting her briefcase on the breakfast bar. Harry breathed a sigh of relief as his mother busied herself with toast. He could've laughed out loud. He really _was_ too paranoid.

"Harry, I'm asking you something."

Harry turned his thoughts back to his (somewhat distracted) mother. "Oh." His hand found its way to the cold metal. "I-I'v always had it. Ever since I can remember."

At this, Guinevere looked at him with an expression of alarm and pity. Or _was_ that pity? He sighed and rubbed his head. _Why_ was he being so unnecessarily suspicious of everything today? Even his own mother?!

She set down the mangled piece of toast and washed her hands. Guinevere walked over to Harry. His head was buried in his hands. "Are you feeling alright? Do you want me to call Dr. Shapiro?" Harry shook his head. He might as well make an appearance or his mother would call the Prime Minister next.

Taking her son's chin firmly in hand, Guinevere lifted up Harry's head. "You look slightly pale…….."

"Mum!" Harry wrenched out of her grip. "I'm _always_ this pale! You said it yourself! I take after Dad!"

Guinevere surveyed her son for a minute more then returned to battling with her toast. "Of course, darling. But you must tell me if something's wrong."

"Yes Mum, I will….."

Having finally buttered up her piece of toast, Guinevere joined Harry at the table. "So, what are your plans for today?"

"Oh, actually today's a half day. It's a staff-meeting at school today. So we'll be done at 12:30 instead of 3:00."

"Mmm…." Guinevere took a bite out of her toast, followed by a sip of her coffee. "Well, you have the house keys. Call me when you get home."

"Alright….."

Harry loved his parents, really he did. His accident had meant so much of trouble, emotionally, for them as a family. Yet they had been so supportive and so caring towards him. Of course, he didn't know if this was a change from before, as he couldn't really remember anything but he still appreciated it all the same. His parents, however, were just a little more protective than parents of your average teenage boy. Harry was average and teenage and a boy. Why couldn't _his_ parents be a little more….loose?

He remembered the one time where he left after school for some frozen yogurt with his friends for an hour. Guinevere and Ronan were patrolling the streets, in a frenzy as to where he was. It was kind of ridiculous really. In time, Harry learned that he was allowed to do things with his friends after school. But it was so much trouble to ask ¯Guinevere and Ronan would say "We'll think about it" and that would go on for a couple of days¯ that eventually Harry would learn it was better to stay home anyway. Guinevere encouraged it.

His parents were out so much ¯Guinevere was a lawyer and Ronan, his father, was a doctor¯ that Harry was mostly alone in the house. His parents, strangely enough, allowed him to have as many visitors over as he wanted. He could've had an all-out party and his parents would've turned a blind eye. For the first few days, Harry spent his time exploring the house. But after a while, it got boring and lost its initial novelty. Still, his computer, homework and hours of mindless television seemed enough to keep Harry's mind of everything. When he went to sleep, was a different matter altogether, though.

The doorbell rang. Harry jerked up instinctively to get it but his mother put a hand on his arm. "Never mind, John will get it." Of course. John. The butler. He was supposed to have lived like this all his life, with servants and whatnot. So why did he behave so…..? Why couldn't just let the butler get the bloody door instead of jumping up for it. As he should. What was wrong with him?

"Harry, darling, are you quite sure you're alright? Maybe you shouldn't go to school today."

"No…." he protested, "I have to go to school. Or I'll be marked absent again. And it'll be my third time! In a matter of four weeks! Besides, it's a half day."

His mother eyed him sharply. "Well, alright. But we're going to see Dr. Shapiro this evening."

Harry didn't bother to protest. It would be pointless and painless. Unless there was really something wrong with him. Then he'd black out for a couple of hours, having no recollection of what had happened. Dr. Shapiro said it was because Harry, being a patient of amnesia, was prone to sudden attacks, sudden shocks that could be brought about for a number of reasons. These sudden shocks _could_ restore great chunks of his memory but they could also spell permanent brain damage if the patient were emotionally not ready to accept what the brain perceives. Or something like that. In any case, to ensure that nothing of this sort happened, Dr. Shapiro always gave Harry a sedative that put him out for periods of time until everything was over.

What "everything" was, Harry couldn't imagine.

"Master Harry." Harry jumped at being jerked out of his thoughts and addressed like that. "Your friend Tristan is awaiting your presence. What should I tell him?"

"Tell him I'll be right there, "said Harry, bolting up and grabbing his back from the upgraded tile floor.

"Oh Harry……I wanted to drive you."

"Mum……There's really no need to…."

"I could drive you and Tristan to school……"

Harry was halfway to the door now and swapped his house slippers for his shoes. "No. It's a nice day. I _want_ to walk. And we promised to pick Lara up."

"Well, we could pick Lara up too, I'm sure she'd appreciate the ride¯"

"Goodbye, Mum. I'll call you as soon as I get home this evening. Yes, I have the keys," he added, slightly exasperated. He lightly kissed her on her cheek and left.

* * *

"And Portugal didn't stand a chance mate! Gosh, you missed it! It was great!" Try as he might, Harry couldn't keep his mind on Tristan's words. Normally, Portugal out of the running would've earned at least a whoop, no matter how half-hearted and Tristan seemed to realize this.

"Harry? What's wrong? You've been a bit off this whole time. I mean, not that it matters or anything, but that's the first time you haven't responded to one of my stories. Is everything alright, mate?"

"Yes, yes I'm fine. I just……..I don't know."

They were approaching Lara's house. It was in a neighborhood all the kids at school liked to recognize as Little Nottinghamshire. The houses weren't nearly as rich as Harry's but still, at 3000 square feet interiors and 60 feet conventional lots, they weren't all that small either. Tristan lived in Little Nottinghamshire as well but it was closer to Harry's house ¯er, mansion¯ than Lara's was.

Coming down the crisp front lawn was a short girl, her auburn hair flying out behind her. She was ¯and Harry thought there was no other way to put it¯ a complete rocker. Her crisp cotton sleeveless shirt was accessorized with a spiky choker. There were rabid bands of leather and metal covering one hand and the other was clad in a full length glove. Her baggy pants had "KISS" embellished on one side of it in fiery red letters and a chain dangling out of it. The other side had what looked like a bright yellow tie sticking out that had Tonka trucks on it. A sling bag completed her outfit.

Harry looked at Lara wearily. Her hair was streaked rather frugally this morning ¯a dark green, as usual¯ and she had laid off on the heavy eye liner as well.

"What's this Lara? Where's the liberal amounts of gunk? Or are we going with the "people" look instead of the "Satans" look this morning?" Lara merely ignored him and walked beside Harry. Tristan was the stark naked opposite of Lara. He was somewhat quiet, liked to read and listened to soft music. He wasn't very outgoing and preferred watching sports to playing them. Still, all the girls fawned over him 'cause, at 5"10 and honey brown hair, you couldn't get any better looking than Tristan. But he never took much notice of that. He never let it go to his head. Harry respected him. He actually respected Lara as well; she was different, she was unique, not because of her image but because of who she was complete opposite of her loud, proud and wild look. Well, she was those things when she needed to be. But she was rational and quick thinking.

It was a relatively quiet walk to school for Harry. Lara and Tristan argued most of the way to school (thank god some things never changed) and Harry was left to his own thoughts.

He subliminally traveled down the road to nowhere as he struggled to regain his dream. He didn't know why he kept harping on it; it wasn't as if he hadn't forgotten one before. But this was a lucid one and the more he thought about it, the more he came to a decision that it was something ground-breaking, something that would change him forever, a chunk of his memory perhaps?

"………Harry agrees with, me, don't you Harry?" Tristan was saying now.

"Wha-?"

"You think that tube singers should be outlawed, don't you?"

"Yes of course…..outlawed, that's it…."

"Harry!" exclaimed Lara, looking scandalized, "How can you _say_ that? Do y'kno, some of them aren't beggars at all! There regular people trying to promote their music that's already circulated out there! They're normal, respectable people."

"Well, do normal respectable people have so much free time that they _play_ in tube stations?" Tristan said.

"Oh, shut up, Trist. You don't know anything. And in any case, Harry agrees with me, right Harry?"

"………..Outlawed…….."

Lara didn't speak to Harry for the rest of the journey.

When they got to school, Harry was still mulling over the word. Outlawed. It had invariably reminded him of something. Though he couldn't quite think of as to what, and once again that claustrophobic, hopeless and rather frustrating feeling resurfaced.

"Hey look, it's Rhea! Let's go and say hi." Harry followed Lara and Tristan towards a girl sitting on the front steps and reading. Rhea was one of the _very_ few girls that Lara didn't mind; she actually got along pretty well with her. Harry now turned his attention to Tristan, who was chatting animatedly with her. He blinked and stared at her. A small explosion took place in the pit of Harry's stomach. She was an interesting person, except Harry had never really gotten a chance to talk to her yet…..

She knew Tristan because she tutored Tristan's little brother in piano. Harry forgot all about his torturous dream and turned his thoughts to the fey creature in front of him wishing he had some excuse, any excuse, to get to know Rhea better. And then he remembered. Chemistry. Rhea sat behind him in Chemistry. He would just turn around and ask for a pencil, easy as pie. And then, he'd crack some witty joke about not having one, and she'd silently giggle as she gave him one and¯

"Harry!"

"What? Sorry, spaced out there." He grinned apologetically.

Tristan looked slightly annoyed. "No kidding, you've been spacing out on me all morning, mate. What's the matter?"

"Later." He muttered, daring to glance at Rhea who had returned to her book. He couldn't help but feeling grateful. He was _sure_ she had turned away out of courtesy. And besides, he had enough problems, without _Rhea_ knowing how dysfunctional he was.

Lara shot Harry a worried look as Tristan said bye to Rhea. She smiled and returned to her book. But then she called out, "Harry."

Harry stopped in his tracks. Slowly he turned around and met her inky gray eyes. He practically melted. "You remember Venus from our Chem class?" Harry nodded though he didn't really know there was a Venus in this school at all. "Yes, well, she's actually quite sick, chickenpox and all, and I was wondering if you didn't have a partner, if you'd like to work together."

Harry ogled at the object of his affections. What a _stupid_ question! Of _course_ he'd like to work with her! Jesus Christ!

"Sure." He tried to keep his voice as indifferent as possible. "If you'd like."

She flashed him her flawless smile and Harry had to try very hard not to make a complete fool of himself right then and there. Lara noticed this restraint and smirked.

Harry smiled like an idiot all the way to class. He barely took notice of the two owls perched on the nearby trees.

**Author's Note: **This and "Confessions" are going to be my summer fics. Confessions is going to be really short and sweet, no more than 15-17 chapters I should think, mayb less if I can wrangle it. This is my first attempt as Harry as a character and I must say, I'm really enjoying it up to now. He makes for a very interesting person to write about, a very complex character. I've scoped out Remus and Sirius so much that writing them has become a play of my right hand now. Getting into Harry gives me new grounds for reinvention as well as a chance to have some fun. Wanting to write about Harry hasn't been like wanting to write about Snape. I've been wanting to write Snape for _ages_ now and I've actually done some good character foundation for him…..but he'll have to wait. This story, along with "My Destruction, My destiny" is going to be my epic.

Read and review!

Enjoy!

ciaO!


	2. Holding Back Providence

**Holding back Providence**

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and all related items, tangible or not, belong to J.K Rowling and Warner Bros. (bless their souls). I am merely borrowing these characters and situations. I'm not writing to infringe upon J.K Rowling's work.

* * *

Severus Snape allowed his piercing gaze to sweep over the classroom. He inwardly marveled at how divided the classroom had become; it looked just like it would had they had been in the war. There were silent, designated places for each person on different sides. The students might not have been able to detect it, but from here, Severus had a clear of what was to come. His eyes stopped on the bowed head of Hermione Granger. Next to her was Ronald Weasley, carefully measuring out some brown looking powder. _Wartcap, probably_, Severus mused absently.

Next to their desk, was Draco Malfoy and¯ well, now the seat remained empty, and a silent Draco solemnly stirred his cauldron. Severus's expression softened as he gazed at his three best students. It still surprised him to no end that Ronald Weasley had taken his O.W.L level classes. Ron's dislike for him, he thought, would surely make the Weasley drop Potions as soon as he could. But he had really hitched up his pants (not that they needed hitching, Weasley was already too tall) and scraped and "Excellent" in Potions. Severus let him in grudgingly.

Hermione Granger had, of course, managed a _very_ respectable OWL indeed and he was secretly glad to have such a fine Potion brewer as her in his class though she was somewhat annoying. The only downfall was that Hermione was an all around student without trying to be; it was just in her nature and Severus couldn't help but think that she didn't put her heart into any of her work. All of it didn't _mean_ anything to her; she just did it, and to the best of her ability because it meant marks. Though she had practically proved herself many times over the years, Severus still wished that she'd had somewhat of a _passion_ for it and therefore only half-heartedly gave her the marks she got.

Draco was a different matter. He put his heart into whatever he was doing these days. Over the past two years, his father's imprisonment and his mother disowning him and then his father's escape from Azkaban seemed to put the young boy in a very fragile position indeed. It was true that he had now become immune to the Slytherin's jeering of him as a traitor, but everything seemed to have taken a toll on the boy. He did everything with a hard, bold exterior, and was quiet, only speaking up to give the occasional sharp retort; one could say he had become quite the loner.

Severus, of course, felt deeply for the boy having known what solitude means, his entire life. But then, Draco had befriended Potter and the two of them were often seen together.

Severus now turned his attention painfully to Potter and the empty seat beside Draco, void of the boy.

It had been three months now, and there was no sign of Harry. Severus shuddered thinking about Dumbledore's face when he had found out that Harry was gone. That such anger, such energy could resonate from a man who looked resolutely ancient was something that was beyond Severus's comprehension. Perhaps that was why Severus respected him so much; that though he was slightly mad, he was brilliant at the same time. His acts of senility seemed to actually give way to brilliance; an odd quality in a person to be sure but one that kept Dumbledore quite high in Severus's eyes.

And as much as Severus disliked Harry, it certainly didn't mean he wanted harm to an innocent child. His memory was as good as ever and he had by no means forgotten how much the boy irritated him; after all, he wasn't _that_ bad….he had manage to get into _his_ OWL level Potions class. Severus remembered with what ease James and Sirius had entered O.W.L level Potions. He had been seething at the time, thinking of how the two wouldn't take it seriously.

Truth be told, Severus was like any other man on the market; stuck in a backward job that he had no passion for. Potions was all very well, but he wasn't out there doing what he really wanted. Life, it seemed, had fallen into one continuous circle, a pointless pastime for those too materialistic to break free. Severus wasn't materialistic by any means, he was just too tired and weary about everything these days. And as much as he showed otherwise, he knew he was really fortunate to be surrounded by students and teachers who all tried to warm up to him.

It could even be said that when he heard the news, Severus had felt as though his worst fears had been confirmed. He knew that something of this nature would happen; he was, after all, in Lord Voldemort's inner circle. He just wished he knew more of the details as to when and how. Now Severus certainly wasn't one to dwell on things but he couldn't help feeling that he had a little hand in this, somehow. He didn't know whether it was because he was a Death Eater in general or whether he just felt a certain obligation.

"Professor?"

Severus left his thoughts, sure to be continued as he found he _always_ had time to himself. A little too much time in fact. "Yes, Ms. Granger?" he said in that same monotone voice he had been using on his students for years now. In fact, Severus used it so much, that perhaps his students had begun to actually detect traces of emotion in it. _Dear God, I hope not._

"Aren't you going to ask us to hand in our work? Class is over." _Oh damn_. Leave it to Granger to remind him of that in front of the whole class. And he already had to mark snotty little first year's work. Why, oh _why_ did he have to insist on being so damn intimidating? Did he _have_ to collect each and every single piece of work just to scare them? He sighed inwardly. Well, he had brought it upon himself.

"I realize that Ms. Granger, but thank you for gracing us with that." He said dryly. Hermione looked away. _Hah!_ Severus was actually on much better terms with Harry, Hermione and Ron than he was ever before. The war was doing wonders for them in terms of their relationship; he could almost sometimes see eye to eye with. Sometimes. But working towards a common goal for more than three years had undoubtedly brought the four to a silent understanding of where each of them stood. Severus managed now to talk to Harry without slipping _one_ insult about his father. He had to practice restraint on this very much, but it all worked out in the end. _Oh no, Potter again. Alright, OK, think about something else._

"There is no need to hand in your work today." The class looked at him and he quickly gauged their expressions; most of them looked downcast, which meant that they had gotten it right and were hoping to gain marks. Excellent. He'd made a good call on choosing not to mark this (as if he needed more work) as they seemed to be doing well anyways. But he would never voice this, heavens no! What would become of his image?

"But Professor." _Granger again.__ God! Someone needs to drill self restraint into that brilliant little head of hers._

"Yes, Ms. Granger?" Severus looked up and was surprised to see the brown haired girl already at his desk.

She handed a little vial of maroon-red solution. "I would appreciate it very much if you accepted this as…..as extra credit? Me and Ron have worked so hard on it and we were hoping you would mark it." Severus stared at her for a minute then caught Draco's eye. He was shaking his head while packing his Potions ingredients. It was hard to tell if he was amused or disgusted.

"Ms. Granger, I'm sorry to say that, despite the fact that you're quite a good student, you're obviously not very bright. And your arrogance plays a big role in this. You _know_ you don't need the marks yet you come and hand it in. I'm certainly not accepting this from you, especially not as _extra-credit_. I do, however, suggest on working on your humility. If that were marked on a scale of one to ten, I'd give you a minus one. You may leave."

_Wow._

Hermione looked so shocked that Severus almost softened. Almost. Now that he thought about it, he _had _gone too far; everything had just come tumbling out of his mouth, his whole day's exasperation and this whole month's worry and weariness, that too in one short instance. And though he felt slightly cleansed, it didn't help to know that he had hurt a student. But then again, she was asking for it and it _was_ Hermione after all; Severus knew stoic as she was, she'd just let it bounce off her eventually.

Hermione turned a shade of red and Severus almost seemed sorry to see her like that. Perhaps it _was _a bit much. Ron's expression, which was surprise, was quickly turning into one that Severus knew all to well; a _strong_ dislike, to be put delicately. Still, she slammed the vial on his desk and stormed out with Ron.

Draco was the last to leave. He always was.

Actually, him and Harry. Ron, Severus noticed, always tried to pretend that Draco didn't get on his nerves and the two were straining to remain polite to one another if ever they spoke at all. And Draco _never_ spoke to Hermione. "Goodbye, Professor."

"Should I mark it Draco?"

Draco cracked a smile. It wasn't a true smile; just a stretch of the mouth, really. "No, Granger's too smart for her own good."

"Actually," he continued thoughtfully though he was halfway out the door now, "You should see if it's horrible. If it is, then mark it and make it count for her entire Potions grade. That'll jerk her back to reality."

Severus took the vial in his hand and smirked. "My, my aren't we evil?"

"We _are_ Slytherin."

"And here's me thinking that you were converting to Gryffindor."

Draco laughed a mirthless laugh. "Do I _look_ like Potter? I'm much smarter than him; I know when and how to act. I don't rush around trying to be everyone's hero. I'm hardly a Gryffindor."

Severus stood up and placed the vial in a cupboard behind. "First step is always denial."

"Pardon me, Professor?"

"Nothing. You may leave now."

* * *

"Hermione, will you look over my Transfiguration essay for me?"

"No."

"C'mon!"

"No."

"What are you doing anyway?"

Hermione looked up from her piece of parchment quickly and flushed. Ron looked at her closely. Hermione was sitting on a squishy armchair next to the fireplace with an enormous textbook resting on her lap. She looked rather suspicious. "Oh, nothing, you know just some extra notes." Ron got up and walked over to Hermione who quickly shoved all her 'notes' in the textbook and slammed it shut. She got off the armchair just as Ron was approaching her.

Ron caught her wrist and wheeled her around.

"Hermione. Let me see the textbook."

"What? Why?" asked Hermione obviously looking flustered. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Hermione……" Ron said a warning voice.

Hermione pulled her wrist out of Ron's grip and turned around and placed the textbook behind her. The she turned around and seemed to gain a little strength to fight back. Her tone became defensive and she spoke very quickly. "I don't see why I have to. It's _my_ textbook. So _I_ have a right to decide who gets to see it and who doesn't." Hermione let herself pick up steam. "And besides, who are you anyway, to come _demanding_ my textbook from me as if I'm supposed to _let_ you? Honestly Ron, you've got to learn that I'm not¯"

Ron caught her wrist again and pulled Hermione closer. "Shut up. Just _shut up_." He said angrily, jabbing a finger in her face. Hermione looked indignantly at him while he searched her eyes. "You're not allowed to talk."

"Well don't¯"

"Uh!"

"Ron¯"

"Aba!"

"Oh _honestly_¯"

"Hermione!!!!!!!"

"What?!"

"Are you _incapable_ of keeping quiet? Now as Prefect of Gryffindor I _command_ you to SHUT UP!"

Hermione made a derisive noise. "You forget Ronald Weasley, that I myself am a Prefect!" She glared at Ron's unreadable expression. He slowly bought her closer. Hermione lost her anger as Ron's face softened.

"You're such a bad liar."

Hermione's eyes now shone with tears. She gave half a laugh, half a cry and leaned into Ron. Her body shook with the effort of not crying. Ron put his arm's around her. Gone was the awkwardness that separated the two; after all, now they only had each other. _Don't think like that. It's not true_, Ron chided himself silently.

"I'm not lying……."

Ron smiled sadly. "You see what I mean?"

Hermione looked up at him, slightly annoyed. "I'm not."

"Really?"

"Yes……"

Ron lifted her chin up. She sniffed like a little child and took in Ron's amused face. "Well do _you_ have any better ideas?" she yelled out finally. Ron didn't say anything as she found his arms again. He guided them to the sofa. He silently wiped Hermione's tears.

"'Mione, you're always the one who says that Dumbledore's there. And as long as we have him, everything will be alright. So? Why don't you trust him enough for this? He won't give up! I mean, this is _Harry_ we're talking about. We'll find him, don't worry."

Hermione noticed a little bitter edge to Ron saying "Harry" but brushed it off as her own imagination. "I-I know…….it's just….Oh Ron! How can you stand it? How can you stand to sit here and do _nothing_? I mean, doesn't it eat you up from inside?"

"Do you think it doesn't? But Hermione, life doesn't stop, does it? We can't _afford_ to let it. We've got other things on our plate. Like the Order. And our own schoolwork. You're the one who always has the most trust in Dumbledore then¯"

Hermione got up abruptly. "I know that! But nothing's _happening_! And we're Harry's _friends_ Ron! His closest friends! Wouldn't he like to be found by us, instead? And don't you think that wherever he is right now, he must want to talk to us? Wanting us to help him?"

Ron didn't say anything. He didn't want to voice out his thoughts. That perhaps, Harry wasn't even­¯ No! No, he mustn't think like that. He _must_ keep hope. For Hermione's sake. For Harry.

"Well, you'd be going against Dumbledore anyway," he said brusquely, "because you_ know_ that owls are being watched! You _know_ there's a chance they can be intercepted! Not even the Floo is safe, you _know_ that Hermione. You of all people should understand that! You should be making _me_ see that, not the other way around."

"And besides, sending an owl won't matter. You think he's going to be able to read it? Do you honestly think he might be in that position? 'Course not, 'Mione! His captors are going to read it first! And if it's from us, or anything suspicious there going chuck the letter and the owl right back to where it came from!"

Hermione wordlessly slumped back on the squishy armchair and Ron sat by her feet. He looked up at her, his eyes unnaturally shining in earnest. "Please 'Mione. We've been over this about a hundred times before. This is _really_ not good for your health. And nothing's going to come out of it. Harry was everything to us. Everything. He only had us to begin with. I know how you feel, 'Mione. But we've _got to keep hope_!"

Hermione looked at Ron. These past few months, he had been so supportive….of nearly everything. Time had closed all the distance between the two and Ron had dropped the discomfited look he wore at emotional setbacks. It was reassuring. Hermione was surprised at first, not really knowing what to think. He was so much more mature, more understanding; a part of her told her that he always had been like this. It was just sad that it had taken Harry's disappearance to bring the Ron she had come to like so much, about.

Now he stood up and took her hand. "C'mon, 'Mione. You need to go to bed." He whispered into her hair as he walked behind her. Hermione shivered pleasurably. _No, no, no, no. Stop it Hermione!_

As they got to the end of the staircases, Ron patted her head lovingly. "Everything will be alright. You know it will."

Hermione smiled up at him like a little girl and hugged him quickly. "Thanks."

* * *

"C,mon, Pig! Stay still." Muttered Hermione as she tried to tie the pieces of parchment to the excited owl's leg. It wouldn't remain in one place long enough and Hermione was losing her patience so early in the morning. Ron wouldn't notice his absence for a couple of days as he only usually received packages from home and that was via Errol, the family owl. _At least, I hope so._

But then, Hermione regained her former spirit and asked herself, so what even if he _did_ find out? It wasn't as if she was committing any sort of crime and it was a free country, wasn't it? There you go. She had nothing to worry.

As she watched Pig fly away from the entrance of the Owlery, however, Hermione stood wondering why she didn't feel more sure about this.

_Don't worry, Harry. We're coming. I promise you. Just hold on a little longer. We're coming. We are……………_

**Author's Note: Well, that's that. Another chapter done at around 1 in the night. Yay! I'm nocturnal; I produce btr work and quicker too, or so I'v noticed, in the night. But enough of that. One of my friends was reading this as she came over. And she said it sounds like HarryxDraco slash. Or at least, as if there's sth going on between them. I must say, I'm starting to actually warm up to that couple (sori Vini), being a slash writer of sorts. In this story, however, Harry is firmly straight. The relationship he shares with Malfoy, however is much deeper and I hope to show that in later chapters. Enjoy, I kno it was short but I wanted to have one event for one chapter. **

**Read and Review :D**

**ciaO****!**


End file.
